Page 19 of Mated to the Grumpy Alien

My entire life I’ve been simultaneously charmed and put off of romantic fantasies. I love romance novels, not because of the actual romance, per se, but because the one’s I choose to read seem less about fate and more about two people working together to overcome obstacles and choosing each other every day for the rest of their lives. Maybe I relish the hard work in that, but also, it feels more relatable than the lightning strike of fated love.

Even with all the romance novels I’ve read, I still roll my eyes internally when the heroine meets a guy and “just knows” he’s the one for her. I always want to sit her down and give a stern talking to. “You just met. How do you know? What if he’s a rapist? What if he’s mean to kittens or doesn’t recycle? How can you really know?”

And yet, here I am, just hanging out in the mountain fortress of some dude I just met.

Now, true, I have considerably fewer options right now compared to … oh, let’s say, Bella Swan. I think we can all agree she should have at least considered getting a restraining order.

But for the first time in my life, I can imagine why she didn’t.

Maybe I can even understand her innate, gut-deep level of trust that Edward wouldn’t suck her dry or break her like a twig.

“But how do I know?” I mutter to myself. “How can I just trust that he’s a good man?”

I jump when Cyg replies, “By all measures, he is a good man.”

“Shit.” I press my hand to my chest. “Warn a girl, why don’t you?”

“Pardon me,” his disembodied voice says. “I do not understand that phrasing.”

“Sorry. I just didn’t know you were still there.”

“Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know. With Irick, I guess?”

“Most of my neural net is stored on the mainframe which can be accessed in the core tech room two doors down the hall.”

“Wait. What tech room?” I stand, not sure what I’m going to do, but unable to just sit sipping my tea. “What’s in this tech room? It’s down that hall?”

I point to the doorway Irick just left through. The one that leads to the garden and to the village.

“No. It’s through the doorway on the other side of this room.”

As he speaks, the ambient glow of the ceiling spreads to light a corner of the room I hadn’t noticed before. Sure enough, there is a door there. Not an open doorway, like the one that leads from this room to the passageway, but a closed, substantial-looking doorway.

“Huh. Is it locked?”

“It is always locked when Irick is not here.”

“Why?”

“To protect the valuable technology that Irick scavenged from the wreckage of the Manx spaceship from the ignorant humanoids in the village.”

“Huh.” I cross my arms over my chest, considering his words. “Ignorant humanoids? The same ignorant humanoids that are my ancestors?”

“Yes. Those ignorant humanoids.”

I huff and pace for a bit, before returning to the table to drink more tea, partly because I’m thirsty and probably dehydrated, but also because it gives me something to do while I think.

After a moment, Cyg says, “Shall I unlock the door so you can visit the technology room?”

I give another huff. “Better not risk anything valuable falling into the hands of this ignorant humanoid.”

There’s a pause that feels unexpectedly heavy, then Cyg replies, “I believe you misunderstand me. Irick doesn’t view you as one of them. I did not mean to imply–”

“Don’t worry about it,” I snap. “I’m just his … what’s that term he’s always using? Bella Shook?”

“Yes. You are his be’lahshuk.”